Stargazing
by Jennifer Lynn Weston
Summary: Gibbs POV. Jack and Joshamee share a moment on the deck of the 'Pearl'. Warm & fuzzy friendship fic. Just barely PG, for brief mention of past unpleasantness.


'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney.

-

This has been a day ta make it clear ta anyone; First Mate on a pirate ship- or any vessel- is no job fer layabouts.

It took all the mornin' and much of the afternoon, ta restock the 'Black Pearl'- we'd lost a lot in that hurricane. Solid, sweaty hours we've spent, haulin' supplies aboard an' stowin' 'em safe in the hold. The crew was more'en glad ta cast off, the moment that task was done.

The ship's well out ta sea now, movin' swift in a fair breeze. Supper an' sunset are long past. I've a fair ache in me back & legs, an' a warm berth callin' ta me, enticing as any wench.

Yet here I am, lingering on the main deck, willin' ta let it wait. Only 'cause it's not every evenin' that offers a view this fine.

'Tis always a grand thing ta be on the ocean on a clear night, where I can see the sky all the way 'round the horizon, with naught but a bit o' rigging ta block it. 'Tis grandest of all on the dark o' the moon, when the stars come out in their greatest abundance. Dense shoals of 'em are showin' tonight, blazin' bright enough ta silver the whitecaps an' color every wood surface an even gray. Rare beauty, indeed- enough ta drive all troubles from a man's mind. At least fer a spell.

Powerful quiet at this hour, too. Just the hum o' wind in the rigging, slap o' waves on the hull, low purring rumble of... say, what is that?

I have a glance about me. Seems that strange rumbling is sounding from the other side of the main mast. I trot over ta take a look.

Oh- I might've known. "Daft man!"

It's the Captain, slumped deep inta a rope coil at the mast base. Not wearin' much- only breeches an' a thin shirt. More 'en probable, he were gettin' ready fer bed when he got a notion to come out fer a bit of stargazin', an' fell asleep unexpected.

I kneel to check 'im- he looks comfortable enough. Head's tilted a bit to the side, pillowed on his hair. I smile to note, in the starlight, his face is innocent as any newborn babe's. There's many, I know, who'd consider that look completely outta place on such as him- a pirate an' scalawag. But not me.

Theer's several kinds of innocence, an' though Jack's let go of most, he has held on ta one. Even after years following a profession which allows- nay; rewards- all manner o' ruthlessness, he's kept his preference fer avoiding bloodshed. Uses his wits rather than weaponry, whenever he can. Never denied quarter ta any as asked fer it, nor hurt a wench or whelp, nor allowed any under his command ta do so. Unless mightily provoked, doin' harm is simply not Jack Sparrow's nature.

Ta my way o' thinkin', that's the most important line ta leave uncrossed. This trait of Jack is a major reason I've stuck by him, through all his leaner times, ez well as...

"Mmm... mmmumph..."

The Captain starts moanin', almost too soft ta hear. His face twists inta a grimace, his hands begin ta move- flappin' forward from 'is chest, as though somethin's touchin' 'im what he don't like. I'm nine-tenths sure I know what that means.

Careful like, I nudge him. "Cap'in, wake up."

"Ge' off! Ge' off!" he growls, hands pushin' faster an' harder. I lean ta put a bit of the mast between him 'en meself, afore I grab 'is shoulder an' give a hard shake.

"Tis a dream- only a dream!"

With a gasp, he jerks upright, one arm striking forward (so good thing I'm to the side.) His eyes, open an' wild, take a second ta fix on me, an' another ta recognize. "Gibbs...?"

"Easy, Lad- it weren't real!" I assure him. "Yer aboard the 'Black Pearl', yer own ship, safe an' sound."

"Not real... just a nightmare," Jack repeats. He sags back into the rope, breathin' deep with relief.

"Aye. Beckett's a long ways away from here." I reach fer my flask, uncork an' hand it to Jack. He takes a fast swallow.

"Thanks, mate," he sighs, calming down. His eye finds mine again, narrows a bit. "Just out of curiosity, Mr. Gibbs; what made you think I was dreamin' about Beckett?"

"From the way yer hands moved- like you were battin' something away." I demonstrate. "That always means yer remembering the Barbados gaol."

Jack frowns sourly. I may be the only one ta whom he's ever told the full story, o' how he escaped from that EITC stronghold. He related it on one occasion when he was deep in his cups, an' the subject came up o' why he holds such a grudge against the East India Trade Company. Knowin' about it has never made me think the less of him- if he had to strike a demeanin' bargain ta get his chains removed, I put the fault on them what required the payment. Though I can see why he doesn't care ta make that tale widely known.

"Tell me, Gibbs; are you always able to discern the content of my nightmares?"

"Not always, Cap'in. But there's some repeatin' themes. If ye clutching at yer wrist, yer dreamin' about the branding. If yer hissin' between yer teeth, it's Barbossa's mutiny. If yer flailing yer..."

I trail off- the Captain's glarin' daggers. "You did ask, Sir," I point out.

In retaliation, Jack lifts the flask and gulps like he means ta empty it. I sigh a bit- it's worrisome ta me that he drinks so much (aye; I know I'm one to talk!) It bothers me all the more, that I understand 'is motive. Not many folks would guess it, from Jack's easygoin' demeanor, but he's been through a number o' really bad experiences. An' bein' pawed by an EITC rotter ain't necessarily the worst of 'em.

He seems ta be feelin' better now, at least- settlin' back in the coil to regard the sky again. His face softens, an' I lean closer.

"Cap'in, doncha think it'd be warmer in yer cabin? It's a mite cold ta be out without a coat, or shoes. 'Specially fer those skinny feet o' yours."

Jack lifts one bare foot, twirls it haughtily. "I'll have ya know; I've had more'en one wench gushing about how well-shaped these are. Lasses like skinny feet."

"Humph. Worse luck fer me, then."

He chuckles. Fer the time bein', the night terrors have retreated.

"How's our speed holding, Gibbs?"

I knew it was too good ta last. "The wind's blowin' us straight an' true. At this rate, we'll arrive in three days." I report this with no enthusiasm. "Cap'in, are ye really sure ye want ta do this?"

His expression hardens. "Yes, I am. Desperate diseases require desperate remedies, Mr. Gibbs."

"No disease could do worse 'en what'll likely happen if ya get caught. From everything I've heard, a Turkish prison is..."

"... 'the worst place this side of Hell, an' maybe includin' it'," Jack finishes. I huff a bit- it's not like I'd repeated all that often.

Jack tries to sound reassuring. "Mr. Gibbs, I am not suicidal- I'd not consider this course if I wasn't sure I could navigate it. So don't get your innards into a state. After all..." he grins like a proper rogue, "I am Captain Jack Sparrow!"

I sag. Once he's spouted that line, there's no point in arguin' further. "Just promise me you'll be real careful in there, Lad. I'm fond of ye, an' not lookin' forward to the day ye push yer luck once too often."

"I promise, Gibbs... Joshamee." For a moment, his aspect is somber. Next moment, that devilish smirk is back. "But what're we doing, wasting perfectly good stargazing time? Just put it outta yer mind, Gibbs. Live in the moment. Enjoy what you have in front of you. Savvy?" He shifts over, clearing a space for me on the rope.

"Ye make it sound so easy," I mutter, half annoyed an' half envious. Shrugging, I settle down on the deck, resting my head beside his. That orange-rind oil he uses in his hair mingles it's scent with those of tar and salt spray. And the stars... On nights like this, ye could almost believe yer under a huge bowl close-lined with diamonds.

Maybe Jack's right. The future'll bring what it'll bring- there's no advantage ta squandering the present with worryin'. I manage to relax- I'm not even startled when Jack's hand moves ta rest warmly atop mine.

"I'm fond of you too, Josh. If it'll put your mind at ease, I'm willin' to bring along whatever good-luck talismans you think may better my chances. At least..." I can hear the smile in his voice, "...so long as there's no hermit crabs inside 'em."

"Now, Cap'in, that only happened the one time!" I protest.

Jack laughs softly- a good sound ta hear. I decide the embarrassment of that aforementioned mishap was worth it. We contemplate the jeweled vault fer a few more minutes, before he stands up in one smooth motion.

"'Bout time fer the two of us to turn in. We've got some hard sailing ahead of us." He offers a hand, helpin' me to my feet, an' holds on a bit longer ta give my palm an encouragin' squeeze.

"Well... g'night, then, Cap'in."

"G'night, Mr. Gibbs. Sweet dreams!" Jack heads for his cabin, saunterin' like he hasn't a care in this world or the next. I watch 'til the door closes behind him.

Once more I look to the stars, ponderin' accounts I've heard, of beings up there with at least passing concern for us earthbound creatures.

I address the shinin' sky. "If any of ye would could see yer way clear, ta keeping Jack Sparrow safe, ye'll have the heartfelt gratitude o' Joshamee Gibbs."

"Tis as much as I can do. And my berth is still callin', shrill an' impatient.

With a loud yawn, I turn an' head below.

--FINIS


End file.
